The Upshot of Shots

New babyWhen newborns come into the world, they arrive with a clean slate which usually includes freedom from disease. We parents immediately jump in to keep it that way by yo-yo-ing back and forth to the pediatrician until our children virtually hate their doctor. That’s because every appointment includes a vaccination.

All 7 of our kids had the same pediatrician, a wise, gentle man we grew to love as a personal friend. The kids would ask, “Am I having a shot today?”

And he’d say, “No. Just a vaccination.”

Splitting medical hairs didn’t do much to cheer them, but by kindergarten, 99% of all needle-visits were over. The upshot of all their shots was freedom from the painful diseases former generations had to experience.

VaccinationsAs for me, I went decades without any shots, but the upcoming illnesses of old age are just ahead, and new vaccines can prevent some of them. One malady I’d like to avoid is shingles, a painful skin rash that can hang on for months.

Even though doctors are promoting the vaccine for folks over 60, it’s not 100% effective. But a vaccinated person who does get shingles won’t suffer the same intensity of pain.

Mom had shingles the year before she died, and nothing could soothe the fiery pain on her neck and scalp. Shingles can even travel into ears and eyes, causing permanent damage. So I decided to roll up my sleeve and take my poke.

Too bad there’s not an inoculation for sorrow and heartache. We could all bop through life wearing big grins, and worries would be a thing of the past. No more middle-of-the-night anxieties or games of what-if. Happy thoughts would dominate, and contentment would be much easier to find.

The only problem would be our numbness. Being protected from the negatives would mean being deadened to the positives, too. If we couldn’t feel sadness, how could we feel happiness? Each human emotion needs its counterbalance.

On the day Nate died, all of us suffered raw pain. But would we rather not have had him at all? No, because that would have eliminated thousands of joy-filled days.

Thinking of this dilemma in a biblical way, if we were able to opt out of sorrow, we’d miss God’s special promises to the brokenhearted. If we didn’t experience affliction, we’d miss his deliverance. If we didn’t suffer guilt over sin, we’d never know the relief of forgiveness.

Even Jesus wasn’t inoculated against sorrow. If he hadn’t willingly been crushed for us, we wouldn’t now have access to spiritual healing.

So, if a vaccination against heartache did exist, we probably shouldn’t get in line for it. Just think of the counter-balancing blessings we’d have to miss.

Jesus said, “You may have peace in me. Here on earth you will have many trials and sorrows. But take heart, because I have overcome the world.” (John 16:33)

Good Advice

If I were you, I’d…
I think you should…
You ought to…
You’d better consider…

Some people are always offering advice, whether solicited or not.

A while ago, a long-time friend sent me two letters written by Nate. He’d mailed them to her and her husband in 1986, and she knew I’d appreciate “hearing from Nate” now. These friends of ours were going through a financial squeeze much like we were at the time, and Nate had been touched by their plight.

Two letters from NateThe first letter’s purpose was to encourage them. He quotes Winston Churchill’s statement, “Never, never, never, never give in!” and refers to Roosevelt’s speech about trying valiantly rather than giving up without a fight. Nate wrote, “Tough as it is, it’s much better to have tried and failed than never to have tried at all.”

In four handwritten pages, he gives only two short sentences of advice: 1) Keep your attitude up, and 2) call me if you want some free lawyer advice on your lawsuit.

It warmed me to see Nate’s large, loopy handwriting again, although I used to fuss at him for not writing more legibly. But better than the penmanship was his message. I remember those dark, worrisome days well. Nate was not only frustrated with his career plunge but felt like a personal failure to his family, which included 6 children at the time. Yet somehow he came up with 4 pages of uplifting words for our friends.

None of us can say why life has to include massive failures and disappointments. Maybe it has to do with our asking God to make us more like Christ. That never comes without suffering or pain, and hardship gives us that chance. Of course we can become angry about it, but that’s hardly fair if we’ve asked for Christ-likeness.

Trials push us to Scripture and prayer, which brings us closer to God. Coming closer to God results in rubbing shoulders with Jesus, which in turn makes us more like him. What begins as harmful can turn out well.

In Nate’s second letter, he relates the details of his own struggle. I sense that writing it out long hand somehow helped him. Our financial future was spinning like a tornado, and summarizing it on paper seemed to bring calm into his personal storm.

He ends with an invitation for these friends (who lived one state away) to come and visit us, writing out exact driving directions to our house. Although this couple now lives four states away, we are still “close”…

…close enough for them to know how much I would love receiving two letters from Nate.

“You are a letter from Christ… This “letter” is written not with pen and ink, but with the Spirit of the living God. It is carved not on tablets of stone, but on human hearts.” (2 Corinthians 3:3)

Come and get me.

Any of us who’ve lost loved ones to death find our thoughts moving between two different worlds, the here and the hereafter. This back-and-forth thought process includes a pause at a theological stop sign: Christ’s second coming.

According to the calendar of human history, we’re living in that middle ground between Jesus’ first coming and his second, his first as a newborn who grew into our radical Savior, and his second as a Victor in battle.

Once in a while I think, “What if Jesus returned tonight?”

The Second ComingHe promised that when he did come back, it would be to defeat evil and escort Christians to heaven. He actually said, “I’ll take you home with me.” (John 14:2)

I love that he’s implying we’ll feel at home when we get to heaven. It’ll be similar to returning home after an arduous journey with a big “ahhh” of contentment. But I’m not really sure I want it to be tonight, and there’s a good reason: I need more time to do better at the Christian life.

Most of us get only 7 or 8 decades on the earth, and it took me about half of those to get into gear in my walk with the Lord. Much of my early life was bare-minimum believing as I straddled a spiritual fence between obedience and rebellion. Even now in my late 60′s, I should be doing much better.

So, I figure, I need more time to keep trying.

Is Jesus reading this and chuckling? Or is he reading it and saying, “You’ve got the right idea.” Being unsure of the answer is an indication of my spiritual immaturity. Of course I’m longing to be with Jesus and walk into his home, discovering the place he’s prepared for me. But as the Bible so aptly puts it,”Night is coming, when no one can work.” (John 4:9) Time to try harder will eventually end.

My hesitation to head to heaven isn’t because I want to earn more glory-points. It’s about feeling bad over personal sin and hoping to become a better daughter to my heavenly Father. There’s just one nagging thought behind my philosophy of wanting more earthly time. What if my condition as a human being is exactly the factor that’s prohibiting greater success at godly living? What if even the most saintly person among us feels just like I do, no matter how many years she’s had to work on it?

In that case, it would be a really good thing if Jesus just came and got us tonight.

“To the one who does not work but trusts God, who justifies the ungodly, their faith is credited as righteousness.” (Romans 4:5)